


Naughty or Nice

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne is helping out at a Children's Hospital Christmas party. The event's "Santa" falls ill and she recruits a reluctant Jack to fill in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naughty or Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This fluffy then smutty story was inspired by a photo set on tumblr from Murder Under the Mistletoe and comments on Phryne's red and white fur trimmed outfit, saying is made her look like a sexy Mrs. Claus. The comments suggested some Santa themed fanfics. I couldn't resist. Here is my attempt.

“Jack! What a surprise!”

“Miss Fisher.” Jack peeked his head around the pile of presents in his arms and nodded in greeting. “I was just helping Collins deliver these. We’ve been collecting them at the station all month.”

“Wonderful!” Phryne said. “How very generous. I’m sure the children will be most appreciative.”

“Well, it’s the least we can do. No child should be in hospital over the holidays,” he said. She took a few of the gifts from the top the pile and helped him place them under the tree.

Jack smiled as he looked her over. She wore a red velvet coat trimmed at the neck and cuffs with luxurious white fur. Her trousers were a similar red, jodhpur style, tucked into red and white striped stockings. She wore red leather boots that laced to her ankle. On her head was a large, fluffy, white fur cap. She noticed his bemused expression.

“Mrs. Claus,” she said, by way of explanation. “What do you think?” She twirled for him. She looked adorable.

“Not exactly how I’ve pictured her,” he said.

“No?”

“No. I’ve always imagined her more...” he thought for a moment. “Well, older perhaps. Grey haired and kindly. The type to bring you milk and cookies.”

“How old fashioned of you,” she said. “I’m not Santa’s mother, Jack. Mrs. Claus is Santa’s partner, essential to his operation. Why, he could hardly manage without her assistance.”

“I see,” said Jack. “Well then, he’s very lucky to have her.”

“Yes,” she agreed, grinning up at him.

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. She enjoyed playing dress up and he loved this childlike quality in her. Well, he loved a lot of things about her, if truth be told.

“Phryne!” Aunt Prudence came bustling into the room. “Whatever will we do!” she cried.

“What is it Aunt P?

“It’s Mr. Casper,” she said. “I’m afraid he’s taken ill. The children will be here any minute and we have no Santa Claus!”

Jack began to slowly back away. Too slowly.

“Jack!” Phryne cried, placing her hand on his arm and looking at him beseechingly.

“No, Miss Fisher.”

“Please, Jack,” she said, batting her eyes. “It’s for the children.” She turned to her Aunt. “Don’t you worry Aunt P. I’m sure Jack will be more than happy to step in.”

“Would you, Inspector?” Aunt P said. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

“Of course he will,” Phryne answered. “You go and take care of the refreshments, we’ve got this under control.”

“Thank you my dear. And you, Inspector.” She hurried away.

“Phryne, no! Get Collins to do it,” Jack begged.

“Hugh?” Phryne laughed. “Hugh is lovely, but he could never convince a child that he knows who is naughty and who is nice. No, Jack. You’re perfect.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that you, Miss Fisher, are at the very top of my naughty list,” he said, realizing his mistake before he’d even finished speaking. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in close, putting one hand flat on his chest. He felt suddenly very warm.

“Is that right, Inspector? Later you’ll have to tell me how to get back on your ‘nice’ list.” she purred. “Unless you prefer ‘naughty’. But for now, come with me.” She grabbed his hand. “We need to get you into your costume before the children arrive.”

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. Hugh hadn’t really needed his help today, but he’d mentioned that Dot would be at the Children’s Hospital charity event, and where Dot was, so would Miss Fisher be. And so too now, was he. The moth, drawn to his flame. Being pulled into her crazy plans. He hid a small smile as she tugged him down the hospital corridor. Damn she was fun.

They stopped in front of a nearby, unoccupied room. Somewhere along the way their fingers had become interlaced and her thumb rubbed absently against his hand. He was reluctant to let go.

“There it is,” she said as they entered the room. She dropped his hand and turned to shut the door. Jack crossed the room to pick up the bright red jacket that lay on the bed. It was a match in color to hers, with similar fur along the front lapels. He frowned and dropped it back on the bed, perusing the ridiculous looking pants and shiny black boots that lay nearby.

“Come on Jack,” she said. “Don’t look so cross. Santa is a jolly, old soul.”

“Yes, well,” he began. Stopping suddenly because she was now right in front of him, very close, her fingers at his throat loosening his tie. Why, whenever she did this, did his body react so violently? He stood deadly still, his eyes on the floor, but inside he was a roiling mess. When she gently brushed the hollow of his throat, as she opened the button there, he drew in a ragged breath and looked up, into her eyes. They were wide and searching and so very blue. His gaze drifted down, to her lips, which were parted slightly. She brought them together briefly as her tongue darted between them, moistening them. Her hands had slipped to his shoulders and she held her breath. Jack swallowed hard and leaned toward her, bringing his head closer to hers, his lips within inches of her lovely, red painted mouth.

“Miss?” There was a brief knock at the door and a mere moment later Dorothy Williams pushed it opened and entered, carrying two large pillows. Phryne and Jack jumped apart. “Mrs. Stanley said the Inspector was to be our Santa. I thought he might need these,” Dot said, coming forward to drop the pillows on the bed. She wore a bright green dress that cinched at the waist and flared before dropping to just above her ankles, revealing a peek of green striped stockings tucked into green shoes that curled at the toes. A pointed hat perched atop her curled hair.

“Good thinking, Dot. Jack doesn’t have that typical Santa physique,” said Phryne, stepping further back from Jack, but looking him over appreciatively. He turned, ostensibly to check out his costume, hiding the blush creeping up his neck.

“Thank you, Miss Williams,” Jack said. “Now, if both of you will excuse me, I’ll get changed.” He placed a hand firmly on the small of Phryne’s back, pushing her toward the door. She huffed slightly, but left with Dot.

Now Jack took real stock of his costume. The red suit lay on the bed, with the boots just below on the floor. A nearby table held a red, fur trimmed stocking cap, a snow white, curly wig, with a matching beard on an elastic string. The pillows would definitely be needed to fill out the suit and transform him into a passable Kris Kringle.

Jack emerged to find Phryne and Dot huddled with Jane, who was dressed as Dot’s twin. Phryne looked up and broke into peels of laughter. Jack would have been annoyed if the sound wasn’t music to his ears. He turned slowly, extending his arms.

“Will I do?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, Inspector,” she said grinning widely and coming forward to pat his round, padded belly. “You look very jolly, but let’s hear your ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’.”

“Don’t push your luck, Miss Fisher,” he answered. He heard a snicker to his left and turned to give Constable Collins a look that immediately silenced any further sound.

They heard a bustle of activity. A large group of children approached in various states of excitement. Phryne grabbed Jack’s arm and sat him in a large red chair, going to stand at his side. Jane and Dot moved forward to greet the children and form them into a line, then went to collect presents from under the tree and bring them one by one to Phryne. For the next hour or so the children filed by. The bolder ones sat upon Jack’s lap while the bashful would stand before him, staring at the floor and speaking so softly he’d have to lean forward to hear them. Phryne stood at his side and, as each child moved on, she would hand them one of the wrapped packages from under the tree.

One small, wisp of a girl, no more than five, with long dark hair in a plait down her back, bright, curious eyes and an impish grin, popped onto his lap, then leaned in to whisper, “I know there’s no Santa, but we should pretend for the little kids.” 

Jack gave her a sideways wink then made a great show of patting her on the head and asking her loudly what she’d like for Christmas. She smiled and nodded approvingly before sliding down to accept her gift from Phryne.

Another child was so excited to meet Santa that she threw her arms around Jack and refused to leave. Not even Phryne or her elves were able to coax her along. She became quite hysterical and a nurse was needed to help calm her and gently pry her hands away, but not without leaving a nasty scratch from her nails on the side of Jack’s neck.

Once every child had met with Santa, Phryne and Jack went to see the children that couldn’t make it to the hall. The desperately ill and bed-ridden. Phryne was moved by Jack’s tenderness during these visits. Most of the children were alone, their parents needing to maintain employment or care for other children and unable to be at their side. Jack’s wonderful, warm voice was soothing and he was able to coax at least a small smile from even the saddest of them. They were all happy to receive the little gifts.

Phryne linked her arm through Jack’s as they made there way back toward the main hall.

“Thank you Jack,” she said, sincerely. “You were a magnificent Santa Claus.”

“You’re welcome. But, I couldn’t have done it without my Mrs. Claus,” he said, smiling at her. “And truthfully, Phryne, I enjoyed it.” She squeezed his arm affectionately.

Jack turned to enter the room in which he’d changed only to stop in confusion. His suit did not appear to be on the bed where he’d left it.

“I had Dot take your clothing back with her,” Phryne said in response to his confusion.

“Back where?”

“To my home, of course. I thought you’d be more comfortable changing there,” she replied.

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because there you will have everything you need. Privacy, access to a lovely bath, and I have a wonderful balm for your injury.”

“My injury? It’s a scratch. And we are in a hospital, Miss Fisher,” he said, incredulously, “I’m sure they have any number of salves!”

“Perhaps,” she said, “But I’m quite sure they can’t offer you anything as fine as the whiskey in my parlour. And I hope you’ll stay for dinner. I would like to thank you properly for coming to our rescue today.” She hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the look in his eyes earlier. She was sure he’d been about to kiss her before Dot interrupted. She wasn’t going to let him slink off home alone.

As she spoke she undid the wide black belt at his waist, unbuttoned the red jacket and removed the pillows, tossing them on the bed, then re-buttoning the jacket that now hung limply on his lean frame.

“Shall we go, Inspector?” she said.

“You don’t seem to have left me much choice,” he replied, having to hold up the too large red pants to keep them from slipping down.

Once they were seated in her car, he pulled off the stocking cap and wig and removed the beard. It had been itchy and he rubbed at his cheeks impatiently.

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “I rather liked the beard. The stomach was nice too, but I’m sure the hospital has need of the pillows.” Jack shook his head, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

When they reached her home, Phryne led Jack upstairs and into her bedroom. His suit was hanging from a hook by the door.

“I’m redecorating the guest room,” she lied. “I’m afraid we will have to share.” She closed the door and dropped her white furry hat onto a table. “Wait here,” she said, disappearing into the bath.

Jack sat and pulled the black boots from his feet. They were at least a size too small and he had some difficulty in removing them, but was quite relieved when he finally tugged them off. Phryne emerged from the bath with a small jar. She’d removed the red jacket but still wore the red pants and a cream, silk blouse. She approached and stood before him, cupping his chin and lifting it to look at the scratch on the side of his neck. She leaned in and pressed her lips to it, then, clucking quietly, gently applied a soothing balm. She could feel his pulse throbbing beneath her fingertips.

Jack watched her through hooded eyes. He had nearly kissed her earlier. He still wanted to, urgently, but they were in her bedroom. It was far too dangerous. How many times had he imagined being in this room with her. In that bed. He might not be able to stop at a kiss.

She finished her attentions to his wound, set the jar aside and slipped into his lap, placing her hands on his chest, setting his soul alight.

"Phryne," he said, trying to keep his hands from wrapping around her as they so desperately wanted to. "What are you doing?"

“It's time for my visit with Santa,” she said, running her hands along the soft velvet of the red jacket he still wore. “Aren't you going to ask me what I want for Christmas?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice deep and husky, he'd lost the battle with his hands and they settled gently on her hips. “I was under the impression those on the naughty list didn’t get what they wanted for Christmas.”

“Oh,” she pouted. “Then what can I do to redeem myself?” She began undoing the large red buttons keeping his jacket closed. He thought briefly of stopping her, but couldn’t move or speak. Their eyes met and held and he swallowed hard as her gaze dropped to his lips. One hand moved up her back to nest in her hair, encircling her head and pulling her mouth down to his.

He brought their lips together with a swiftness and force that pushed the air from her lungs. She moaned into his mouth and looped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, her tongue insisting upon access to his, pushing past his lips, tasting him, drinking him in. He ran his hands over her back feeling the smooth, firm muscles under the silk of her blouse, and enjoying the stirring in his groin as she writhed in his lap. He dipped his head to her neck as she arched back to give him better access, her hands moving up into his hair. He hummed against her neck. Her scent was intoxicating, he needed to taste her again, and reclaimed his hold on her mouth.

She was lost. She wanted to feel him, but sitting sideways on his lap left her unsatisfied. She leaned back from his kiss and stood, pulling him to his feet and grabbing at his jacket, pushing it roughly off his shoulders. He let it fall back onto the chair, the loose trousers slipped to pool around his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She tugged at his singlet and he assisted her by reaching behind his head to pull it off in one swift move. She smiled and ran her hands over his smooth, muscled chest. Neither spoke a word as Phryne began backing toward the bed, unbuttoning her blouse. Jack followed, not wanting to let her too far from him. She tore her gaze from his eyes to make her way down his body, stopping at the increasing bulge in his shorts as the fabric tented away from him.

“Oh, Jack,” she sighed. Stopping to run her palm over him, then teasing with her fingertips, delighting in the groan it elicited as he hardened further under her hand.

“Good God Phryne,” he growled. Pulling her to him and covering her mouth with ferocious kisses.

His hands moved over her impatiently, pushing at her blouse until it fell from her body, then sliding over the silk of her camisole to squeeze her breast and twist a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He backed her up toward the bed, then dropped to his knees, fumbling at the fastenings to her trousers and tugging them down over her hips, along with her smalls, kissing each inch of newly revealed flesh. His hands tickled the soft skin behind each knee as his lips brushed over her thighs and up to the outer edge of her hip bone. When he pressed his face firmly at her center and paused to inhale her scent, he felt her shudder, her knees buckling slightly.

He pressed her gently back until she fell upon the bed, draped her legs over his shoulders and buried his head between her thighs. Her guttural cry, coupled with the heady scent of her, nearly overwhelmed him, but he fought for control. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd got here, after wanting and dreaming of this for so long. It hardly seemed possible, yet he knew it was really happening, because the feel of her, the taste of her, was all too real and more exquisite than he’d ever imagined.

Phryne pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a cry. She didn’t want a member of her staff bursting in to rescue her, but, _dear lord_ , she couldn’t keep quiet. She whimpered and moaned. She wanted to move and writhe against the relentless attack of his lips and tongue, but his hands at her hips held her firm. He teased her clit lightly, perfectly and methodically. She felt herself climbing. He released her hip to plunge two fingers deep inside her, without ceasing the attentions of his mouth, and she rose up off the bed, letting out such a wild, animalistic moan he thought he’d come apart right then. He could barely stand it and as he continued in his quest to make Phryne Fisher come undone, his free hand reach into his smalls to take himself firmly in hand.

He gripped himself with the one hand while the other pressed into Phryne, slipping in and out and feeling her begin to pulse and clench around him. His breath ghosted over her sensitive skin and his tongue swept over her with the lightest of touches. She wound her hands into his hair. Bringing her feet up onto the bed, and arching up, she pulled his head away as a powerful orgasm overtook her. He stayed close, gently stroking her as she came back down. 

She opened her eyes to see him standing before her, his eyes dark and burning with lust. She stretched out a leg, running her foot up his thigh, brushing lightly over the front of his smalls and the obvious erection they covered. He let out an anguished groan and met her eyes with a silent query, she gave a small nod in answer and he slipped off his last remaining piece of clothing.

“You’re beautiful Jack,” she purred.

“I want you so desperately, Phryne,” he said. "I've wanted you for so very long."

“And I want you, my darling,” she said, thanking the stars she’d had the foresight to insert her pessary during her earlier stop in the bath. She sat up and pulled the camisole over her head, then reached for him. He climbed onto the bed as she lay back.

“You’re so lovely,” he breathed. His voice even deeper and richer than normal. He moved slowly over her, pressing his mouth to her abdomen, licking and kissing as he proceeded up her body to the underside of one breast before teasing her nipple with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth, closing his teeth around it, nipping at her. She arched into him, sighing and sank her hands into his hair. It was just as thick and soft as she'd imagined. What she'd failed to imagine was how adept he'd be at drawing out the primal need in her. She could scarcely believe this was Jack. Her steadfast inspector, who was playing her body as though she were an instrument he'd long ago mastered. His large, warm and slightly calloused hands moved over her with such loving care, and his lips found her most sensitive spots until she thought she'd go mad if she didn't have him inside her soon.

“God Jack, you drive me wild,” she said, and felt his lips curve into a smile against her neck. His hand roamed down her body to settle between her thighs, finding proof of her statement. He slipped a finger along her slick heat and brought his mouth down on hers, bruising her lips and assaulting her tongue with his own. She opened her mouth to match his urgency and reached down to touch him, wrapping her hand around him. He was long, and solid. Warm and silky smooth. And ready for her, so very ready.

He moaned and thrust into her hand. Her touch had him reeling. She spread her legs and pulled him to her.

“I need you inside me. Now,” she demanded.

Jack steadied his hands on the bed on either side of her and lifted his head to look into her eyes. He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, feeling her stretch and expand for him. When he was fully ensconced he held, his gaze fixed upon her, their eyes locked on each other as they had hundreds of times before.

“I love you, Phryne,” he said. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” He began to move slowly inside her, making love to her as though this were his last night on earth. His one and only chance to prove his devotion.

He filled her completely, mind, body and soul. Everything was Jack. She moved to rock against him, trying to encourage his thrusts, increase his pace. Her hands slid down the taut muscles of his back to grip his glorious bottom and pull him tight to her. She couldn’t get enough. Her desperation seized him and his pace increased, his thrusting intensifying until he was driving mercilessly into her, over and over. She moved to match him, meeting each press, finding a rhythm and taking him deeper.

She knew he was close and slid a hand between them to help herself along. He pushed it aside and reached down to grab her leg behind the knee, bending it and bringing it up, around him. He shifted slightly before driving back into her, harder and deeper than before. When she was a moment from breaking, he brought his hand between them, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit. She lost all coherent thought as the room crashed down around her.

“Jack!” she cried, as her body tensed and shuddered. Her head fell back. Everything went black and then sparked behind her closed lids like fireworks as she gasped for air.

The sound of his name, tortured and raw from her lips, pushed him over the edge and he came hard. She heard his primal cry and felt him crack into pieces before collapsing on top of her, continuing to pulse inside her. It took several minutes for them to still. He slipped from her and onto his side, pulling her into his arms. They lay face to face, running their hands over each other, slowly, caressing with gentle affection as their racing pulses settled.

* * *

 

Phryne lay with Jack, his arm encircling her, her head resting in the crook of his neck as her hand drifted over his chest. One leg lay between his as she pressed into his hip. Normally, by this time, she’d be in her bath having sent her lover on his way or in her silk pajamas, ready for sleep. But right now she didn’t want to move and she didn’t want to sleep. He was so warm beside her and smelled of sweat and sex and Jack. She pressed a kiss to him, tasting the salt on his skin.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly, hoping he wasn't in any way regretting her having lured him to her bed. She'd known for awhile how he felt about her, what she didn't know was if he was aware of just how hard she'd fallen for him.

“Hmmm,” he hummed. The rumble in his chest sending a thrill through her. From the tone of it alone, she could tell he was content. “I'm thinking that Christmas has come early and I’ve had my every wish fulfilled,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. “And you?  What are your thoughts?”

She could have told him that she was happy he was here with her, or that she loved him, but she didn't.

“I’m wondering, Santa,” she said, instead. “If those of us on your naughty list are so thoroughly rewarded, what do those on the nice list get?  And what must I do to find out?”

She wriggled on top of him, rubbing her hips against his and brushing his neck with her lips. He ran his hands up and down her back, feeling himself becoming aroused again and pressing into her to increase the sensation.

“You’re off to a good start Miss Fisher, would you like me to tell you how to proceed?”

“Oh, yes Santa,” she sighed. “Most definitely.”


End file.
